


Here We Stand

by Welsper



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: All Dragons Live, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Battle of Winterfell, F/F, F/M, Jorah Mormont Lives, Margaery Tyrell Lives, Queen Daenerys, Queen in the North
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 17:36:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19067398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Welsper/pseuds/Welsper
Summary: Queen Daenerys has returned from King's Landing to defend her new people at Winterfell. Will the living drive back the dead or is all lost?





	Here We Stand

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosecake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosecake/gifts).



The wall had fallen. The dreadful blast of Joramun’s horn had reached even Winterfell, a horrible sound that still sent chills to Sansa’s bones when it came to her in her nightmares. But this was real, this was no dream.

The dead were marching. Swarming. They looked like ocean waves crashing over the rock’s of King’s Landing’s bays as they met the shield wall of Winterfell’s defenders. People from all the Seven Kingdoms who had come to guard the Stark’s ancestral home as it was the last bastion against the dead.

And not only the people of Westeros, but the men and women of Essos Queen Daenerys had brought with her. They were tired and hurt, their numbers thinned by fighting the former Queen’s Cersei’s forces at the capital. With three dragons and her armies of Unsullied and Dothraki, Daenerys had back her throne and now she had come to defend her people.

To defend Westeros and the world beyond. This was the living’s last stand.

“Get down to the crypt.”

Sansa shook her head at Arya’s request.

“I am not abandoning my people. I will not abandon you, or Jon or Bran. I won’t be the only one down there. If I die, I want it to be alongside the living, not the ghosts of the past.”

“What about Magaery? You should stay with her. Maybe it’s the last time you ever get to be together.”

“I said my goodbyes, Arya.”

Arya smiled at her, that sad smile of hers. They had both been through too much, but Sansa hoped that one day, she would be able to see her smile properly again. To meet the little sister again she had despised all those years ago. Just Arya, not this remorseless killer that returned home.

“Take this then,” Arya told her and handed Sansa a dragonglass dagger.

Her numb fingers squeezed the hilt of the knife.

“Stick them with the pointy end.”

-

Hell followed. Screams of terror and the singing of steel rang in Sansa’s ears as Winterfell was swarmed. Guilt flew through her as she saw the Unsullied fall to defend the retreat – she had been wrong to ever doubt Daenerys, to ever doubt the Queen’s intentions. Her loyalties lie with the living. Sansa only hoped they would both live through the night so that they may make their peace.

“Lady Sansa, stay by my side!”

Brienne grabbed her roughly by the shoulders as she swung her sword to take the head off a wight that came to close.

“Ser Brienne, you lived!” Sansa breathed in relief.

“Yet. So long as I have my lady to defend, I will not fall,” Brienne swore. She shouted as she barrelled into a group of wights, tearing them apart as if they were mere paper before her. She shielded Sansa with her massive form, while Sansa watched her back and occasionally thrust out the dagger she had been give. It wasn’t much, but if her life bought at least some wights eternally at rest, then she had done her duty to defend her home.

“Lady Sansa!” Dany shouted from Drogon’s back, hoping her voice would carry towards her as she flew over the courtyard. She had her child reign fire on the swarming wights, less than she wanted to as to not hurt the living present, but enough to cut a path for them, to make them able to fight back.

“The Night King is marching towards the Godswood! Jon and I will try to stop him, but be ready!”

Beneath her, she saw the blood-smeared redhead nod. She looked fierce, for as cold as the North was, a fire burned within her. If they lived, perhaps they could become friends. The gods knew Westeros needed friendship in what would follow. If anything but the dead would follow.

“Vla!”

Drogon rose higher and higher as they left Wintefell’s breached walls behind. Drogon and Rhaegal did her best to cut off the flow of wights while Viserion was blazing the seemingly endless hordes of dead from further back.

“Jon, watch out!” She shouted, but it was too late and Jon could not hear her. With a sheer impossible strength, the Night King had thrown a spear made of ice at them. It shot right through Rhaegal’s right wing and horror seized her heart as she heart her child screech in pain. Rhaegal tumbled down onto the ground and Dany turned Drogon downwards, wind breezing past her ears as they were in freefall.

The ground shook as Drogon set down to help his fallen brother and Jon.

“Dracarys!” She screamed and Drogon unleashed hell upon the Night King. Dany’s eyes widened in fear when the flames subsided. There he stood. Unharmed, unburnt. It hadn’t fazed him.

“Jon, take my hand!” Jon reached out to her, but it was too late and the dead were too fast. Within seconds, they were on him and on Drogon. Screeching, he cut a path for Jon, blazing away scores of wights as the Night King raised new foes for them and made way for Winterfell.

“Go, Jon! You must stop him!” She screamed as the dead swarmed her, tried to swarm Jon.

“Now!” He understood. What happened to either of them didn’t matter in the end. Defeating the Night King was their duty, at whatever the cost.

Dany lost her grip on Drogon when skeletal hands with rotten flesh tore at her dress and dragged her down onto the bloody ground. They were swarming over Drogon like insects and he took off, trying to shake them off. Dany only hoped he would make it, if she and Rhaegal were doomed. No parent should outlive their children.

Most like none of them would see the dawn.

Resigned to her fate, Dany tried to ready herself for death.. But it didn’t come. Only heat, as dragon flames bathed the battlefield. When she opened her eyes, she saw neither Drogon nor Rhaegal. It was Viserion. And on his back was Jorah Mormont.

“Khaleesi!”

Strong arms lifted her off the ground and onto Viserion. She wrapped her arms around Jorah’s broad back, confusion and relief overtaking her.

“You came...”

“I would never let you die.”

Jorah sat on Viserion as proudly and at ease as he rode a horse and the dragon heeded him. With his mother and the first man he had ever seen on his back, Viserion seemed to come as alive as Drogon and Rhaegal had with their riders.

Viserion rained down cover fire for Rhaegal, whose tail swiped and broke wights’ bodies. Both dragons roared fiercely. If this was their last stand, then they would do so with all the pride of their race.

But this was not the end. The night was dark and full of terrors, but no night was endless. Dawn would come for them yet. The wights swarming at them dropped one by one, finally at rest. Their bodies no longer kept alive by grotesque magic, for its wielder was no more.

The Night King was dead.

The long night was over.

–

So dawn came, but not all rose with it. Corpses laid still in and around Winterfell, some stacked so high you could not see the sun if you stood behind the pile. It was a dreadful sight.

Tirelessly, the survivors worked to give the dead the proper burial they deserved. So many had left them. So many good men and women. The living would always remember them. And go on without them. For them. For their sacrifice.

The sun was blotted out by the ashes rising from the burning burial mounds. But no darkness would ever come close again to that of the night they had brought to an end. Never again would the Night King threaten the living. The last curse of the Children of the Forest was forever gone now.

–

“That your real name? Aegon?” Tormund shook his head. “Sounds stupid.”

“So keep calling me Jon.”

“You don’t want the Iron Throne?”

Dany sounded incredulous. During the battle, there had been no time to think about it, but it had to come to this conversation eventually. Rather sooner than later, she thought. So she had called for a meeting of those closest to her and the Northern rulers. And she told the truth. Keeping secrets from those who bled besides her was not her way.

“What are you talking about? If it weren’t for you, we’d all be marching for the Night King. You saved Westeros. You saved us all. They’ll accept you as their queen.”

“What of your claim?” Dany asked, trying to mask the worry in her voice. There was so little of old Valyria left in the world. This man was all that remained of her family. She was loathe what would happen if he decided to challenge her for the throne.

“What of it? Truth be told, I never wanted to be king of anything,” Jon admitted to her, a lopsided smile on his face.

“All I wanted was to be a ranger with my uncle. Explore the land beyond the wall.”

“And now you can!” Tormund clapped Jon on the back and nearly sent the man doubling over on the floor.

“With the Night King gone, I will lead my people back to their home. Back where they belong. Back where you belong.”

Tormund held out a hand to Jon. Jon looked over to Sansa and Arya, who smiled at him. Bran nodded. Jon grabbed the hand and they shook on their new promise.

“There will always be a place for you here, Jon, you know that. But I won’t make you stay. Either of you,” she added with a nod to Arya. She knew her sister was no lady and would never be. This one couldn’t be tied down either. “Bran and I will take care of Winterfell. Of the North.”

“And we will take care of the _true_ North,” Tormund said with a roaring laugh. Even Sansa had to chuckle a little.

“Westeros is yours, your Grace,” Jon said and bowed. Just when Sansa was about to do the same, Dany held her back with a gentle hand to her shoulder.

“Not you, Lady Sansa… your Grace,” she corrected with a smile. Sansa’s eyes widened.

“I will not rule with such an iron fist as my forebearers. Perhaps Aegon was wrong all those years ago when he made Torrhen kneel. Yours are a proud people, Sansa. I do not wish to subjugate anyone to my rule who doesn’t wish it. And the North… the North wants to follow you. The Queen in the North.”

“To Queen Daenerys! To The Queen in the North!”

Mugs and horns rose in celebration of Westeros’ two rulers. And rule it well they would.

-

“So… you’re the queen now,” Sansa heart a high voice besides her and then felt Margaery’s soft form press into her side.

“I’ve married so many kings… a queen might be a nice change,” Margaery said with a wink.

She wrapped her arms around Sansa’s forearm. Sansa could feel her heart flutter as Margaery leaned her head against Sansa’s shoulder.

“You’re so tall… Taller than all my husbands!”

“I say we both had our fill of marrying lesser men,” Sansa said with a chuckle.

“Tell me about it,” Margaery said and rolled her eyes. Oh, how Sansa had missed her. She was not the girl she once had been, naive and full of hope and dreams and Southron ambitions. But the feelings she had for this beautiful woman, they had never quite gone. The sway of her hips when she walked, her beautiful locks swinging behind her, the little mischievous smirk of hers even when she pretended to be the nicest, kindest girl the Seven Kingdoms had ever seen.

“Will you return to court in King’s Landing? A rose like you might not thrive in this cold weather.”

“Then keep me warm,” Margaery breathed into Sansa’s ear.

–

Dany too, wished to live freely. To follow her heart. It was that wish that drove her to seek out Jorah, who had wandered to Winterfell’s godswood. He was mourning the head of his house, the young and fierce Lyanna Mormont, named Giantslayer in death. Viserion was there with him. Drogon may like to take off by his own, but it seemed Viserion liked to stay close to his rider, now that he had finally found him.

“It should have been me,” Jorah said quietly as she neared.

“She was so young. Too young.”

“She died bravely.”

“Aye. She was a true Mormont.”

Dany reached out to Jorah and touched his cold cheek with her gloved hands. Jorah leaned into the touch as eagerly as a drowning man reached for air on the surface.

“Viserion let you ride him,” Dany said with awe clear in her voice.

“I thought only those with Valyrian blood could...”

Jorah smiled at her with all those lovely lines in his face and those incredibly kind and warm eyes. Daenerys didn’t know what she would have done if those eyes had closed forever. She would have lost herself without her bear by her side.

“He must have wanted to save his mother. Viserion was always the kindest of your children.”

Behind him, Viserion blew air through his nostrils and Dany chuckled as it messed up her hair. Viserion keened and dropped down on the ground, contently folding himself up like some scaly loaf of bread. Dany gently petted his snout.

“What will you do now? Return to King’s Landing or oversee things here for a while longer? The North is most likely to reject any kind of intervention by you, I know what they are like… You saw them. They still call Torrhen the King who knelt. They have never forgiven him that. No Targaryen banners would fly for you here if the Northmen had their wish.”

“That was always Viserys’ dream. It was mine too, truth be told. I thought they would await me, happy for me to dispose of their cruel queen, and so we did… but look around you, Jorah. Am I truly wanted here? These northerners, they love their own and not much beyond. They look to Jon, they look to Sansa. Not to me. And so I shall let them. They will truly be an independent kingdom. I did not make her Queen in the North as an empty title.”

“I will always look to you. You will always have this Northener’s heart. It’s not much, but it’s yours.”

Dany was silent for a moment.

“Jorah Mormont, what is it that you want?”

“Khaleesi… I cannot...”

“Ask me.”

Dany’s voice was quiet. She felt like a foolish girl again, but she knew what she wanted. All these years, the one constant by her side had been Jorah. He had made mistakes, but so had she. And still he came back to her. And still she took him back.

“Ask me now, Jorah. I won’t deny you… I can’t deny you.”

Jorah’s breath hitched in his throat audibly. She could see him swallow. Her heart felt as if it was going to burst through her chest, it was beating so fast. Jorah sunk to one knee before her, the freshly fallen snow crunching beneath him. His rough hands gently held her delicate ones, his thumbs rubbing warmth back into then where the cold had taken it.

“Daenerys of House Targaryen… will you marry me?”

Dany felt tears drip down her face. It was so cold some of them froze there. She could only nod. Politics be damned. She had married for the needs of others too often. She had married without love, all to try to keep together kingdoms that would ultimately still fail.

No longer would she deny herself her heart. And her heart was Jorah Mormont.

“Yes,” Dany breathed.

It would not be the house with the red door of her childhood she would live in with Jorah.

But she was no longer a child.

For a Queen and her King, a Red Keep worked just as well.


End file.
